


A (sort of) Ghost and A Cat

by SilverButterfly111



Series: Jinx (The Misadventures of one Thackery Binx and Jack Frost) [2]
Category: Hocus Pocus (1993), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Jack Has a Plan, Thackery also had a plan, life's no fun without a good scare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 08:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21223574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverButterfly111/pseuds/SilverButterfly111
Summary: Well... they came out into the woods at night to look for the witches' cottage....Jack would hate to disappoint.After all, life's no fun without a good scare and fun is Jack's speciality!





	A (sort of) Ghost and A Cat

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series now... sure October's almost over but who says we can't embrace the spirit for a while longer.
> 
> Come along for the adventure!

** _October 26th 1802_ **

October is Jack's favorite time of year. Getting into trouble comes with the territory. Ghost stories and all the hocus pocus with half of the work load that comes around about the middle of November to the end of February.

Sure he travels around sometimes but he's only really got to focus on the Northern Hemisphere. Ever since his existence has been elevated to myth status. He's not really sure which spirit started talking about him to mortals behind his back- if he ever finds out- Oh boy it's going to be fun to give them an ear full.

If he has to hear the whole 'nipping at your nose' thing one more time he's gonna-

Jack forcefully tells his brain to shut up. And focuses on the path in front of him, though he could easily walk through this part of the forest blind for all he's done it in the past nine years.

The cottage in the woods doesn't give him the creeps like it probably should. Jack can proudly claim that he isn't scared of much. Can't really remember being scared of anything.

Jack shakes his head and glares at the slowly decaying building. His bright blue eyes combing over the shadows. Trying to summon one in particular.

The stubborn cat doesn't show himself. Jack circles the house three times in ever shrinking loops. Sighing in annoyance..

"Thackery!" Jack hissed under his breath.

No response.

Weird.

Jack raises his voice calling the name again and again getting louder and louder with each repatriation. The cursed cat- no pun intended- doesn't appear.

He closes his eyes and slows his breathing. Trying to sense the other's presence. It doesn't work as well as he was hoping. Binx hangs around this place a lot. His energy is everywhere.

Jack hasn't seen the cat anywhere else in the woods. Which is why his sudden absence is so jarring to the winter spirit.

He clicks his tongue more in thought. Deciding the next course of action will be to go back into the woods and retrace his steps.

"Thackery?"

Ten second pause.

"Binx?"

Five seconds.

"Stupid cat! I summon thee!"

"Oh for Christ's would you be quiet! You'll wake the dead!"

Jack turned his head and looked down simultaneously so fast that he nearly jarred his neck. Staring in slight awe at the cat crouched on the forest carpet of leaves.

"Woah that actually worked?"

"No," Thackery objects with an indignant hiss.

"You didn't _summon_ me; I'm not a demon. You were just getting irritating. You were going to step on me."

"Oh," Jack made a point to lower his voice. And take a half step away from the feline. "Sorry...Wait, you could hear me this whole time?"

Binx twitched his ears. Answer enough. This entire time not once glancing at Jack.

"I was-" Jack attempted to explain.

"Worried?" Binx interrupted.

"No!" Jack shook his head in denial. "I can tell you are though...what's going on?"

Binx huffed. Finally shifting his weight onto his back feet and prowling across the ground. "Maybe if you hadn't been crashing through the woods howling like a lost kitten you would have heard them."

Jack instinctively went tense. Crouching down to be closer to his friend's level.

"_ Them? _You mean The Sander-" Jack gets cut off with a cat-eye stare and a tail across his mouth.

"Don't say that name!"

Jack scowled and pushes the tail away from his mouth. "It's not my fault you like to play the pronoun game."

"Not _ that _them." Binx sighed. Affording Jack half of a glance before he turns his head back to the path at the sound of a twig snapping underfoot.

"That them."

Jack follows the flicking tail and makes out the shadowed figures of four people making their way through the trees.

"They're looking for the house." Binx mutters to himself. It's highly likely that he's forgotten Jack is still crouched next to him.

Jack tries not to take it too personally.

"Well they're going in the wrong direction." The winter spirit stated the obvious in an attempt to comfort his friend.

"And I'm trying to keep it that way." Binx tacked on.

Jack glanced at the cat and then back at the group of children trekking through the undergrowth.

"You got them lost! In the woods. At night. On purpose?!"

"They're not lost...I know where they are."

"Binx!" Jack reprimanded as though scolding an actual cat for doing something they know they shouldn't be. "We talked about this y-"

Jack cuts himself off mid-scold when one of children. The oldest one- Jack assumes based on height and how he's the one leading the group- turns to face the others- allowing his voice to be caught by the wind and carried to Jack.

".- the Sanderson sisters murdered Emily Binx and then turned around and banished Thackery to Hell but he came back and vowed vengeance!"

Jack watched Binx pin his ears to the back of his head.

"That is not how it happened!" The cat objects. Protests go unheard from the group of children.

"Now you know how I feel." Jack muttered in empathy. "I have never 'nipped' anyone's nose!"

"Oh so you've heard that now have you?"

"Oh God, don't you dare start with it too." Jack swiped at the cat with his wooden staff. Thackery dodged the playful blow. Perched atop a tree root and hissed at the winter spirit.

"You hear that?" One of the children spoke up in a harsh whisper.

"Hear what?'

"Sounded like a cat."

Binx fell silent, pushing himself deeper into the shadows and webs of tree roots.

"You're just being paranoid Molly!" One of the others cut in.

The children continued in their fruitless search for the witches' cottage. Unaware that their progress was being tracked by two pairs of gleaming eyes.

"I've got an idea-" Jack whispered.

Binx twitched an ear but made no other sound. Afraid of alerting the children to his location.

"Do you think you could out run them?"

Binx flexed his paws, subconsciously flexing and hiding his claws as he thought it over.

"Maybe," was the wary reply. "How far?"

"Back to the cottage, I've got a plan."

×××

"Ouch!"

Jack flinched and opens an eye to take a peek at Thackery's poor unfortunate victim. The ringleader of the little group is on the ground.

"Jonathan?" Two of the children step forward to help the other off of the ground. Leaving the final member of the group to be the one who actually caught sight of Thackery disappearing through the trees. Nothing more than a small shadow occasionally illuminated by the moon.

"There _ is _a cat!" Molly shrieked.

"Get it!" The other three children scream taking off after the black shadow that zips across the forest floor.

The four are so intent on their task that they don't take notice of the wind that picks up and rattles the branches of the trees.

They halt and blinked in wide-eyed fear at the cottage looms in front of them. They're so preoccupied with staring at it with jaws unhinged that they hardly notice Binx seeking refugee in the dark and dust; squeezing in through a broken window.

It's unsurprisingly Jonathan whom recovers from the thrall of the house first. Stalking forward slowly in confidence. Convinced of his own imagined immortality.

"Where did you go, you little demon?" Jonathan grumbled under his breath. Disturbing more than a century's worth of dust on the porch as he pushes the door to the cottage open with an unholy moaning creak of rusted hinges.

As Jack had predicted. The three other children weighed the benefits of staying in the woods or following their leader and disappeared across the threshold as well…..

"This isn't so bad." Molly spoke up in a whisper. Lifting her chin in falsified bravery.

The wind slammed the door shut behind them.

Molly squeaked and spun around to face it.

"A-anyone else get really, really...cold just now?"

"It's just the wind." Jonathan huffed. Stepping up to the closed door. "The old thing has no weight to it, all you have to do to open it back up is-" the fifteen year-old pushed...and then pulled...then let go of the door's handle and kicked. All of this in a span of twenty-five seconds whilst the other three children watched on in concern...then fear...then horror.

"It's stuck, like something is holding it shut!"

They all froze as they felt a chill crawling up their spines.

Molly jumps and clings to the nearest arm she can find in the dark. "Something tapped my shoulder!"

The person Molly is clinging to yelps and announces. "Something brushed my leg."

"Just the cat."

Light, almost childish laughter filled their ears but multiple spins around the room revealed no one in sight.

"They don't look like they want to play with us, Binx~"

There's an answering meow but the children are far too focused on trying to locate the disembodied voice to look for cat.

"G-g-ghost!" Molly stammers. Face going pale as the word she's just squeaked. The only answer they get is more laughter.

"Thackery!?"

"No, Jonathan~ I'm not Thackery, but I know him..."

"How in Hell does it know your name?!" One of the two other youths present backs up toward the door. Forgetting in their fear that they had given the identity of their companion away in the woods.

"Nope! No, so much no!" The addressed ringleader renews his struggle to open the door and finds far less resistance then expected.. Tumbling back across the threshold and falling with a muffled thud into the overgrown grass.

Laughter chases them all the way back to the village and some might call them crazy when they claim to have seen a white-haired boy standing on the porch- with a black cat at his feet- waving at them as they flee. They do not wave back. And they _ certainly _ do not return. That. That is the important thing.


End file.
